


As Lovers Go

by Potterology



Series: Flick of the Wrist [1]
Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:35:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2696549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potterology/pseuds/Potterology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of kisses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Lovers Go

**i**. _she said, i’ve gotta be honest_

 

The bottle spins and stops at the one person she had been praying for the last six turns it wouldn’t land on; next to her, Reagan tenses and across, Liam bites his lip to keep from saying what Amy knows he wants to say. Karma’s face twists in an expression Amy can’t quite suss, but covers it up with a wide grin and sends a sickly sweet smile to Shane. “Sorry, _Heartbreaker_ , but I’m gonna go with the seven minutes.” A groan echoes through the circle (both male and female disappointment alike) as Karma stands, dragging Amy up by the wrist towards the stairs. It’s the safer option, of course, as opposed to the ‘tongue kiss in front of everyone’, even with Shane yelling _“I wanna see smudged lipstick!”_ after them.  

Both pretend not to see the downfallen faces of their respective significant others.

“Stupid Shane. Trust the first time I actually enjoy coming to one of his parties, he decides Spin the Bottle is the attraction of the night,” Amy rolls her eyes once the door is closed, collapsing across the ridiculously oversized bed. It’s sparsely decorated so she assumes it’s a spare or maybe even his parents’. Karma snorts and sits on the edge next to her. 

“Well, it is the _nineties.”_ Smugness is punctuated with a tug on the hem of Amy’s Nirvana shirt. There’s that look again. Softer in the dim light of the bedside lamp, but not any more discernible to the blonde. If she didn’t know better, she might dare to say it was similar to her own expression a few months ago when looking at Karma. But that’s stupid - for the obvious reasons. “Being locked in a room with me isn’t so bad, is it?”  

Amy almost shakes her head to clear it, propping up on her elbows instead with a small smile. “Not so bad, I guess.” 

They’re both quiet for a while until Karma turns, hands twisting in her lap and decidedly not looking at her best friend. “Can I ask you something?” 

Amy frowns and sits up, “Sure.” 

Another look, half pained and horrifically awkward, before the redhead gets up and starts to pace. “Things are so much better now, right? And that’s great. And I’m super happy that we’re back to where we were before, and don’t read too much into this, because I’m really just curious, and if you don’t want to answer, that’s cool, but--”

“Karma!” 

“Right. Sorry. Rambling.” Karma runs a hand through her hair and sighs, stilling. “Amy, do you -- I mean -- do you still have feelings for me?” There’s a note to her voice and neither one of them really knows what it means - she almost sounds nervous, and perhaps she is; it's a hell of a thing to ask, really. 

The blonde flounders for a second, flagging under the weight of the hard stare. “I don’t--” It’s almost an answer but she pulls back at the last second, standing with a sigh and taking Karma’s hands in her own. “I think -- there’s always going to be a part of me that’s still in love with you. But I think the side of me that loves you as my best friend is a little stronger nowadays.”  It isn’t a lie. For once, they aren’t faking it - not pretending to be in love or breaking up, or even pretending to be okay with any drama between them. Karma lets out a huff of a laugh and shrugs, wrapping her best friend in a hug and Amy kisses her cheek with a grin.

For a second after they pull back, they’re too close; the air is too thick; it is, for just that singular moment, as if they're back in the gym -- 

Only Karma is the one who kisses first. 

A rush forward, one hand curling into her shirt, it’s probably only five seconds or so of contact, but it’s enough to freeze Amy from head to toe. It’s a kiss. Not a fake, Instagram-worthy kiss to make Liam jealous; it’s not an appeasing ‘for the fans’ peck on the lips; it’s not a kiss to make her mother crazy. She can feel everything. The pull of the cotton against the back of her neck with how hard Karma is gripping the fabric, the warmth that sinks in through the bare inches of space between them, the haze of subtle perfume and pineapple shampoo, the rail of unexpected heat down her spine.

“-- whoa.” Eyes open slowly, jaw dropping. 

But there isn’t an _I know_ \-- just the sound of the door clicking shut as Karma escapes back downstairs. 


End file.
